In Which I Start a Blog

Photo by Kinga Cichewicz on Unsplash

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always loved words. Inked letters on a crisp page. The sound of a page-turning, the crack of a new spine. Books were my obvious first love. Strange rectangles that made for an awkward shape in my small child’s hands, all corners and edges. Nonetheless, I adored them.
My mother, in the company of family or friends, is still quick to conjure up the image of a smaller me, incessantly shoving books into her lap…